


Ours

by shrugheadjonesthethird



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Married Life, One Shot, Writer Jughead Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14453430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrugheadjonesthethird/pseuds/shrugheadjonesthethird
Summary: My dear gay_for_rey1999 and I were talking and she said,  "I imagine a little girl with Jughead's dark hair and blue eyes climbing in his lap holding his novel and going Daddy what's this? It has your name on it"I took it and ran. Enjoy this drabble.





	Ours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gay_for_rey1999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_for_rey1999/gifts).



He sat at the dining room table, paperwork scattered in front of him. He heard the sound of tiny footsteps charging toward him. Before he could react, a small raven haired girl jumped into his lap.

“Daddy, what's this? It has your name on it,” the little girl’s voice was sweet and curious. She was holding his novel in her tiny hands.

Amalia Kennedy Jones was five years old and was now reading at a second grade level; she was, after all, the first born to Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones, brilliance was second nature to her. She was the spitting image of Jughead, though he insisted her features were more Betty’s than his own. Her hair was naturally wavy, dark like her father’s with eyes to match. The sparkle in them, as Jughead insisted, was all Betty.

“That, little lady, is the story of me and Mama.” Jughead took the book for her prying grip. “But, you can't read it until you're older.” He placed the book on the table in front of him.

“Why?”

“When you're older, nugget. All you need to know is that we love each other very much, okay?” Amalia wrinkled her nose, but the answer seemed to satisfy her.

In one fell swoop, Jughead pushed back in his chair, gripping Amalia under her arms. He spun her around and threw her in the air. The sound of giggles filled the dining room. “Daddy! Stop!” she laughed uncontrollably. Jughead cradled his daughter in his arms and peppered her face with tiny kisses. Jughead continued his actions and headed into the next room to see Betty with their son in her lap. She was tickling his sides as he laughed.

Spencer Forsythe Jones was three years old and the spitting image of his mother. His blond hair was styled into a haphazard faux hawk, at Jughead’s request. His green eyes shone as he laughed under his mother’s fingertips. The sound of laughter filled their home, smiles splitting Betty and Jughead’s faces.

“Mama!” Spencer squealed. Betty and Jughead stopped torturing their children and glanced over at each other. They looked into each other’s eyes, love behind them, as it always had been.

“Mama, Daddy won’t let me read the book with his name on it.” Amalia pouted, still in her father's lap. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Oh yeah, which one?” Betty smiled at Amalia, still cradling Spencer in her arms.

_“Ours,”_ Jughead chuckled.

“Oh. Well, you can’t read that until you're older, Molly.” Betty’s voice was soft but firm. “It's got a lot of big words that you haven't learned yet." She lied.

It was Jughead’s second novel. He had written it as a surprise to Betty shortly after they married. He wanted to memorialize their life together, their journey to finding their happiness. It was not a short journey by any means. Any other couple who endured what they had would have given up, but not them.

\---

_Jughead sat down across from a young journalist. His second novel had just been published when is manager asked him to sit with a feature writer for a newspaper. Being a published author was still surreal to him, even after publishing his novel of the Jason Blossom murder._

_“So, Mr. Jones,” the young man began, “your first novel_ Blossom _was wildly successful. It detailed your experience in your hometown and surrounded around a murder of a classmate. It was raw and gritty. You left no stone unturned.” Jughead nodded along at the words he’d seen in reviews since the books publication. “But, your sophomore novel,_ Ours, _is drastically different. Can you tell me about that?”_

_Jughead knew this line of questions was going to occur. How could someone write the story of Jason Blossom then turn around and write a romantic novel of epic proportions?_

_“When I was writing_ Blossom _there was a subplot that couldn’t be ignored.” Jughead crossed his legs under the table, getting comfortable. A smile played on his lips that he couldn’t fight. “It’s my story. Well, our story. Me and my wife. She brings out the best, and the worst, in me. It had to be written and I was the only one who could do it justice. It plays out over the span of fifteen years. It’s more than just we met and fell in love. There’s heartbreak, devastation, but a kind of steadfast devotion that, unless you lived it, you wouldn’t understand. I never thought this would be where writing would take me, but it’s the most important story for me to tell.”  His smile persisted throughout the entirety of the interview._

_“It’s refreshing to see someone so young with such an immense range and a real grip on life. Thank you for sharing your story with us, Mr. Jones.”_

_\---_

“Will you read it to me then?” Amalia asked. Jughead looked at Betty, raising an eyebrow. She was persistent, just like her mother. Their story had not been easy to write for Jughead; he never wanted to think about certain parts of their relationship, the time they spent apart before coming back together. There were things that their children didn’t need to be exposed to this early in their lives. Amalia was growing frustrated with her parents answer.

“We’ll see,” Betty replied, knowing the answer would remained no. Amalia jumped off Jughead’s lap and ran back to the dining room. “I have been meaning to reread it myself,” she winked.

“Reread it? You lived it!” Jughead laughed. He stood up and grabbed the book from the table. He sat back down and thumbed through the pages. The pages that contained their saga. She leaned over Spencer and kissed him on the cheek. He peeled back the front cover with Betty’s head resting on Jughead’s shoulder.

_My dearest darling._

_It has always been you._


End file.
